


Permission to Die

by hermione_vader



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:50:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermione_vader/pseuds/hermione_vader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for Avengerkink.  Bane subdues almost all of the Avengers and tortures them one by one, as only he knows how.  But he didn't count on a couple of wild cards prepared to take him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hawkeye

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt [here.](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/9218.html?thread=20144130#t20144130)

They brought the archer first, hands bound and bleeding. He was the least remarkable of the list, but he must be dealt with.

Bane untied Barton's hands and pressed him against the wall, raising him up. Then he gave the signal. An arrow flew into the archer's right wrist, just below the largest vein. A second pierced his left wrist. Barton let out a low, primal noise---part grunt, part scream.

"Come now, Clint, you can't give up now!" Bane said as he pressed against the archer's chest. 

"I'm not!" Barton groaned.

"I hope so." Bane pointed to a camera in the corner of the room. "All of your friends are watching." 

The blood dribbled down Barton's wrists and danced down the wall. "No, they're not. It's broken. They're not."

"Believe that if you must." Bane stepped aside and a third arrow stabbed Barton's bound feet. "They will not come for you. Your cause needs a martyr. What better martyr than the atoning archer? Weighed down by guilt, you give yourself for something better. They'll find this admirable." Bane leaned forward and whispered as much as he could with this mask. "In truth, you are expendable. The least essential link. They will turn to each other for companionship. Your woman will take solace in the Captain's arms."

Another primitive yell escaped Barton's mouth. His whole body shook. He drooped his head, but his eyes blazed forward. The remains of Bane's lips twisted into a smile beneath the mouth. The archer was not gone yet. But he would fall with a few more pokes and prods. Not as much fun as the others would be, but he was a promising start.


	2. Black Widow

The Widow came next. Bane rolled a television into her dimly lit room. She was clever enough not to fight. Her blue eyes studied her restraints on the table and she wiggled her toes and fingers, searching for a weak spot. 

Bane stepped slowly toward the table, listening to the clomping of his own footfalls. "I admire your methods, Natasha, but there are no straps to undo. I have no doubt you'll solve the puzzle, though. He doesn't doubt you, either." 

The television clicked on. Barton's bloodied form graced the screen, hanging on the dark wall, stoic against the waves of slaps and whips until his body began to cringe and convulsed into the barrages. The Widow's eyes snapped up from the restraints to the screen. 

Bane brushed his fingers against the metal and a smoothness poked past the morphine's haze. "He's holding out for you. You and I both know that. You will never care for him the way he wants, but he refuses to give up. He won't let go of the little girl struggling for freedom."

"He told you this? In his screams?" Her voice is as steady as her gaze.

"He showed me. I recognize that strength. I did the same once."

The Widow laid her hands flat against the table. "Really."

"How else do you think I came by this mask? You're not the first little girl struggling for freedom. I risked everything to give that to her, and I lost. But she won her freedom and that's all that matters." 

"Where is she now?" Her eyes grew wide but refused to plead.

"Gone. At the hands of a man who knew nothing but privilege." Bane's fingers grazed the Widow's purpling cheek. "You remind me of her. Your blue eyes are just like hers."

Her jaw tensed. "Did she have a name?"

"Talia."

She pursed her lips together and swallowed hard. Her head gave the slightest nod.

Bane stepped back and patted the top of the television. "I'll leave you two alone for now and let him know I've decided to release you in light of his sacrifice."

"But you won't."

"Of course not."

When Bane reached the door, he glanced back and saw tears drizzling on the Widow's cheeks. She was so much like Talia: only one person's fate could make her cry. He had been right. He enjoyed that.


	3. The Incredible Hulk

The Hulk arrived in a semi. By the time Bane flung the doors open, the beast had reverted to the small, unassuming scientist. Bane was disappointed---he'd looked forward to wrangling the Hulk, sitting on top of his head and dangling between his fingers. But his original self might prove easier to work with.

Bane set Banner in a warehouse. The would-be Hulk woke up, dazed and blinking, but self-aware.

"One day, I'll make sure to wake up in a hotel," Banner murmured.

"I'm sure you could if you timed it correctly," Bane agreed. He liked Banner's self-deprecation. Such a refreshing change from the egos he'd grown used to dealing with. "Now tell me, Bruce, would you like to crush me?"

"Not really. But I know someone who would."

Bane stepped forward and his shadow fell on Banner's round face. "Yes. And I'd like to meet him." 

"Not gonna happen."

"I'll give you several days to change your mind." Bane turned around and his footsteps echoed through out the warehouse. "You won't be the first Bruce to crush me."

Bane left. He planted no cameras or audio bugs. He sent no one in. One week later, he returned to find the Hulk towering over him, prepared for battle. The beast tossed Bane like a football and dangled him like a set of keys until pain crept into his perpetual fog, needling his shoulder and his calves. Eventually, the Hulk turned him into a hammer, bashing Bane against his green forehead. The amusing little scientist never returned.


	4. Invincible Iron Man

He tangles the playboy's body in wires and lifts that glowing blue circle off his chest. Stark awakes in a flurry of gasps and wheezes.

Bane ruffled Stark's fluffy hair. "Ah, there you are, Tony. I'd thought you'd left us. I'm so glad you haven't."

"Thanks for your concern, Lord Vader." Stark's face morphed into that smirk that had grace thousands of tabloids.

"You're quite welcome." He tapped his hands back and forth on Tony's shoulders. "You know, you're much smaller than the last vigilante billionaire I met. Funnier, too."

"Thank you, Lord Vader. I'm flattered."

"Good. When I met that first man, I couldn't understand why a rich man would sacrifice himself for the rabble in the street. But you've shown me the answer. What do you think that is?"

"I'll take 'What is the Greater Good?' for eight hundred, Alex."

Bane chuckled. "That's what you tell yourselves at night when you nurse your injuries, but you simply cripple them, making them cling to the system that oppresses them."

"Everything's a political statement to guys like you. It gets old."

"I don't know how many would blame me when you refused to let your own government near the Iron Man suit. That move was as political as it was personal. You couldn't bear to part with your greatest creation, nor could you relinquish the positive attention it gave you. For the first time in your life, you were loved. Not unconditionally, but still adored." Bane leaned down so his mask hung about an inch above Stark's nose. "But you also consolidated the clout of capitalism in giant red-and-gold action figure. The masses no longer fight for themselves. They wait for Iron Man to save them. You told the world they need a rich, handsome savior, and they've believed you wholeheartedly." Bane took out a remote control and turned on the flatscreen they'd mounted on the wall. News reports flashed across the screen. "New York lies strangled in the gutter. Malibu bleeds out onto its beaches. Without Iron Man, they're as strong as you without your arc reactor or me without my mask."

"Okay. I can handle the speeches, but could you take that thing off? It's pretentious and distracting."

Bane stepped back. "As I said, if I removed it, I would be lying among the wires with you. But a man born in a palace cannot understand one born in a prison."

"Prison. Sure. How many ironic backstories do you have? Must get confusing, keeping track of them all."

Bane lunged forward and his right fist knocked into Stark's jaw. "My life is no less extraordinary than yours."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Vader."

Bane pulled Stark forward and twined the two wires draped over the playboy's neck around his fingers. He yanked the wires towards each other and a small yelp escaped Stark's mouth. Bane tugged a little more. One more pull and the world would be free of another indulged idiot. But that victory would be fleeting. Too quick. Too easy. All of them had to die at once or everything would be naught. Bane let go of the cords and pushed Stark backwards into the mess of wiring.

Bane straightened himself. "I have hidden your arc reactor. If you can find that with your famous intellect, I will let you live." He strode toward the door, rested his hand on the knob, and looked back at the playboy. "Just to be safe, I've already notified Ms. Potts of your death."

Stark's dark gaze switched from furious to terrified. "Where are you holding her?"

Bane said nothing.

"What did you do?" Tremors crept into Stark's voice as his wheezy shouts began. His limbs flailed among the wires. "WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU SON OF A BITCH?!"

"My mother was weak, but she wasn't that," Bane answered, slamming the door behind him.

He listened to Stark's shouts as he made his way down the corridor, turning the arc reactor over in his pocket. The playboy proved more resilient than Bane expected, but overall, this visit was a success. Not as fun as he'd hoped, but worth the trip. And the reactor's light was such a pretty shade of blue.


	5. Captain America

Out of all of them, the thought of facing this man excited Bane the most. The Captain fought well, as Bane assumed he would. He threw admirable punches. Very clean, very precise. All Bane had to do was block.

"Well, Captain, I was told you never run away from a fight, and you do not disappoint," Bane told the Captain as he stopped a particularly angry right hook from meeting his eye.

"Did an angry mob ever attack you when you were smaller?"

The Captain's left fist aimed for Bane's gut. "No. Why?"

Bane thwarted this punch. "Curiosity. It happened to me once. I was protecting a friend and she escaped to safety. I was not so lucky, so I donned a mask."

"Can't see you as a protector." The Captain's right leg swept out for a kick and missed.

"Why not?"

"I knew a man exactly like you once. He always ran away."

"Anyone not like you is a Nazi? You're more like the Red Skull than I will ever be, Captain." Bane's left foot slammed against the Captain's knee. "And you show the distinctly American trait of conflating fascism with socialism and communism. I'd hoped for better from such a paragon of virtue."

An arrogant smirk flashed across the Captain's face. "I don't see much of a difference."

"It's quite simple: I aim to liberate, not subjugate."

"They sound pretty similar coming from that mask."

Bane's fist jammed up into the Captain's jaw and he heard a satisfying crack. "You are as blindly idealistic as he said you'd always been. I used to laugh when he'd describe you, thinking it all a grand exaggeration, but you really are what he'd told me."

"Who?"

"The Winter Soldier."

"The Russian operative?" The Captain furrowed his brow and Bane landed a left hook to his eye.

"So S.H.I.E.L.D. told you of him?"

"A little bit."

Bane's elbow smacked against the Captain's ribs. "He's an old colleague of mine. Almost a friend. He knew you so well, Captain."

"Then he's a liar. I don't know any Russians except Natasha."

"No, he was originally American, from my understanding. He had another name then. James Barnes. I believe you called him Bucky."

The Captain froze. "Bucky's dead. Don't you dare disgrace his memory---"

"I'm not." Suddenly, the mobile phone in Bane's pants pocket began to ring. "Ah, right on time." He pulled the phone out. "Hello?"

"Is he there?" the Winter Soldier croaked.

"Yes, he is." Bane put the phone on speaker and held it out towards the Captain. "He wants to speak to you."

The Captain blinked and gazed at the phone in confusion. "Hello?"

"Steve? Is that you?" James' voice rang through the empty room.

"It's not...Bucky? Is it?" The Captain dropped his arms, and bent over the phone.

James sighed. "Yeah, it is."

"Prove it."

"Last time I saw you, you were gettin' payback for the Ferris wheel at Coney Island, remember?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I was." A lost little boy emerged in the Captain's hunched shoulders, his drooped head, his wistful stare. His body seemed to shrink with his next words. "Bucky, I'm sorry."

"Me, too. Make sure you go back and look for a body next time."

"I will. I promise I will."

The phone was silent in Bane's hand until James spoke again. "Sometimes I wonder where we'd have ended up if you didn't always have to play the hero."

Captain America opened his mouth, but no words tumbled out.

"I don't mean to interrupt you two," Bane began, turning the phone towards himself, "but I have a proposition for you, James."

"What's that, Bane?"

Bane gazed at the shaking, fumbling Captain. "I'll allow you to come and retrieve your friend here. I won't interfere. You two could escape and start your own little resistance force. In fact, I'd welcome that."

"No."

"What was that?"

James' voice was firm. "No. He can fight his way out. Like he always does." There was a click and the dial tone filled the space between Bane and the Captain.

Bane put the phone away and the Captain stood back up, taking desparate swings at spots of air inches from Bane's head before collapsing onto his knees.  
  
"You told him to...you made him...you got him at..." the Captain spluttered.  His body shook, but his blue eyes were steely.  
  
"I gave him a decision," Bane said.  "He made it."  
  
Horror crept into the Captain's eyes and he blinked back tears.  Another "I'm sorry" fell out of his mouth.  Bane had never met anyone who'd meant those words before.  It was a pitiful sight.  So Bane picked him coat up off the floor, pulled the arc reactor out of the pocket.  
  
"Take this as a token of my apologies," Bane said as he thrust the reactor into the Captain's hand.  
  
Captain America saw the reactor glowing blue in his palm, but did not respond.  No screams, no tears, just quiet trembling.  Bane thought that suited a quietly righteous man.  He nodded curtly and left.


	6. Loki Liesmith

Just one left.  This one wasn't even on their little team, but he intriguing Bane endlessly.  He had to go through layers of illusions and "magic", but eventually, this man fell.  The sorcerer's petulance, pride and ambition caved in on him as soon as Bane broke past all of the multiples.  The man had expected a brutish fool who plowed headlong into his enemies without a second thought.  He had been sorely mistaken.  
  
Bane stepped into the dim little cell, where two pale green eyes peered out of the shadows.  The sorcerer's naked body glistened with sweat in the light from the world above.  His lithe limbs twisted and rubbed against his metal bonds, but he did not pull at the silver gag that Bane had retrieved from sinking into the primordial ooze of the Kalahari Desert.  Bane watched him struggle for a few moments before sitting down beside the sorcerer and putting an arm around him.  
  
"Ssh, Ssh," Bane told him as quietly as the mask allowed, grazing the gag with his thumb.  "Yours is so much prettier than mine."  
  
Slim hands gripped his vest, but Bane could not discern their purpose.  
  
Bane ran his hand through those long, greasy strands of black hair.  "I just want you to know that I appreciate you.  You're such an entertaining and formidable opponent.  I enjoy your tricks.  You provide a proper challenge, and I thank you for that."  He slid his hand down that taut torso.  "Your father should be very proud of you."  
  
The sorcerer buried his face in Bane's vest and a series of whimpers crawled out from underneath the gag.  Bane cradled him, letting his fingers wander up this man's slim back, down his arms, and over his thighs.  The sorcerer leaned into his touch, so Bane pulled the man's head back and rested his mask on the silver gag.  
  
"Do you want to know a secret, Loki?  You could escape this prison if you wished.  All you have to do is climb up there."  Bane pointed to the top edge of the pit.  "Only two people have ever done it, but I think you could be the third.  Because I believe in you, Loki."    
  
He gripped the sorcerer's wrists and touched his mask to those thin fingers.  When Bane stood up, the God of Mischief sprawled out on the stone slab, staring up at the ceiling.  Whimpers still squeaked out of the gag.    
  
Those pleading green eyes stayed in the back of Bane's mind as he ascended to the edge of the pit.  This was too much for a weak mind, he supposed.  After all, the sorcerer had never been as strong as the others.  But he was more entertaining than the archer, at the very least.  More importantly, the last domino had fallen.  
  
When Bane reached the top, he turned his thoughts to exploring the ruined palaces of excess back in America.


	7. The Mighty Thor

He had done it. He had turned the world's most powerful nation on its head. Blood washed onto the Mississippi's banks. The rich cowered in the penthouses while street thugs became gods. And no one could come to the rescue, as though anyone needed rescuing in this new utopia.

For the first time, Bane felt safe. No one could throw a shield at his head and lecture him on morality. No one would descend from the sky and quip about how wrong he was. No beast would pound him into the ground. He was unchallenged. Slightly bored, but unopposed. This felt nice, if unexciting.

Then one cloudy day, he decided to roam the street of New York and admire the overturned cars and rows of broken windows and the bursts of armed citizens banding together. All started by his hand. He needed no office, no direct authority. These sights were enough.

People jumped out of Bane's way as soon as they saw him. They backed up against walls, hid behind vehicles, crouched down on the street. He stood isolated in the middle of Fifth Avenue when a hammer flew into his back and knocked him to the asphalt. No pain pushed past his anesthetic haze, but his pride took a tiny hit. He rolled over on his back and saw a handsome, broad-shouldered blond man smirking down at him. The God of Thunder.

"You've taken something that doesn't belong to you," the thunder god told him.

Bane stood up. Thor still towered over him. "Quite the contrary. I've given it back to its rightful owners."

"That's not how I understand it." The thunder god summoned his hammer again and threw it at Bane's front this time.

Bane fell, but he managed to counter by barreling headfirst at Thor's armored torso. Not a dignified move, but it would have to do. They tumbled to the ground with Bane on top and he focused on nothing but destroying that rugged face. As he pounded that pretty mouth, he cursed himself for making such a grievous error.

"I thought you'd abandoned this planet," Bane remarked.

"You thought wrong." Thor rolled over and pinned Bane down, squeezing the mask.

Bane swatted his arms away and dragged the god up, shoving him against a wall. Then something zipped into his right shoulder. A bullet. A dull but noticeable feeling. Bane looked up and saw the Winter Soldier peering down from a broken window, sniper rifle in hand.

"James?" he murmured.

"Thank you, Bucky!" Thor shouted.

"Any time!" James waved. Then he looked at Bane. "I promised I wouldn't interfere with Steve, but I didn't say I wouldn't come for you."

As Bane stared up at James' glare, Thor pushed him against the wall, twisted the mask, and ripped it off his face. Air circled his mouth for the first time in ages. Then waves of agony enveloped his body as he staggered forward, grasping at the space in front of Thor. The god picked him up and raised him high over his head.

Bane knew what was coming. "Who are you to determine the fate of this land?"

"I am Thor Odinson, Crown Prince of Asgard and proud Avenger. And I! WILL! BREAK YOU!!!" The thunder god bent Bane in half and a new anguish exploded through his back. He shouted, only to be drowned out by bystanders' cheers and shrieks of horror.

Thor set him down on the ground and cradled him, rubbing the top of Bane's head. "Now you will tell me where you've hidden my friends."

"Scattered here and there, clinging to shadows of themselves. Your brother's in a pit of a prison on the other side of the world," Bane managed to say.

"And the others?" The thunder god's gaze was steady but sad.

"You'll find them eventually. Enlist James up there if you must." He could not lift his limbs now. The corners of the world turned fuzzy, too.

Thor gripped Bane's vest and shook his broken body. "Tell me!"

"No."

Bane let out one ragged breath and he moved beyond pain. The world turned white while he lay in a god's arms. And he would take this victory with him. A tiny victory in a lost battle. The last thing he felt was a bullet diving into his left shoulder. Then whiteness embraced him. Bane longed for a place with shadows.


End file.
